Stuff left on the steps turn invisible
BURTON W. COLE, Editor
By Burton W. Cole
Among the greatest masters of camouflage in nature are the chameleon, the octopus and anything left on the stairs.
The chameleon can change colors. The octopus not only changes colors, but textures as well.
Stuff left on the stairs simply turns invisible. It must. No matter how many people run up those steps, not a single person will scoop up the item and take it upstairs where it belongs.
Instead, the upstairs denizens will bellow from their rooms, “Where’s my red sweater?” “Who hid my homework?” and “Someone stole my shoes.”
At which point, someone downstairs, usually a mother who has had it up to here, will snap, “It’s on the stairs! You clomped right by it 100 times. Pick up your stuff and put it away!”
I don’t know who invented the put-it-on-the-steps-for-the-next-person-to-take-upstairs method of housekeeping. It’s never worked. But some domicile dwellers keep trying.
Statistics that I just made up show that at any given time, 63% of all homes are loaded with invisible stuff on the steps at least two-thirds of the way up the stairs.
The most common of these is laundry. If you are a guest in someone’s home and can’t find a towel in the upstairs bathroom, there’s a pile of them neatly folded on the stairs.
While you’re grabbing the stack of towels, be kind — take the row of washcloths on the next step with you. For decorum’s sake, you probably ought to ignore the socks and underwear on four or five of the other steps. It’s not polite to be going through your host’s dresser drawers, even if you are putting invisible laundry away where it can be seen.
Stairs are like counters and tabletops — a magnetic force that draws any random object within 50 feet to fill any available space.
A friend of mine once observed, “An empty flat surface is an abomination of nature. It shall be filled.”
A typical household staircase boasts 12 to 15 steps. That’s 12 to 15 flat surfaces that nature itself says must be filled. Anyone in the household who has stuff to go upstairs but feels too lazy to climb 12 to 15 steps happily helps nature in her quest to leave no flat surface bare.
In households where I have lived, next-trip-up debris crammed to the right side of the stairs eventually spread two-thirds or more of the way up the stairs.
It seems to be only common sense that once a guy has to climb that far up to find the next available empty step, he might as well just finish taking the thing the rest of the way upstairs. Or throw it the rest of the way. And grab something from one of the other steps that’s passing on the way.
But I — I mean, the guy — never thinks to do that. Too logical, I suppose.
Stepping past piles going up the stairs isn’t bad. The greater danger is coming downstairs — which can happen six times faster than intended, especially in these modern times when people glue their noses to electronic screens instead of watching where they step.
Later, in the emergency room, the doctor reviews the paramedic’s notes: “Patient descending stairs slipped on folded bath towels, a sneaker and a Slinky. Sling not applied to fractured arm as the Slinky already fulfilling role. Patient will require extrication from Slinky.”
The patient shakes his head, which dislodges a Lego from his ear. “I could swear that there was nothing on the steps. I didn’t see a thing.”
Of course not. Stuff left on steps turns invisible.
Leave notes for Burt at news@falmouthoutlook.com, on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook, or on the stairs. He’ll trip over it eventually.